


before the sunrise

by holtzmanns



Category: RuPaul's Drag Race RPF
Genre: Drabble, F/F, Fluff, actual fluff who is surprised (me most of all), b works a late shift at a convenience store, v is a customer
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-25
Updated: 2019-11-25
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:48:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,648
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21554944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/holtzmanns/pseuds/holtzmanns
Summary: Brooke watches in amusement as the woman strolls up the counter, slamming both of her hands onto the table and rocking back and forth on her heels.“Can I help you with something?” Brooke doesn’t put on much of a customer service voice for the woman, distracted by the way she seems to be shaking the drops of water from her hair onto the counter.“I moved here about-” The woman pauses, checking her watch, ‘-eighteen hours ago. Forgot about dinner, no big. But my stomach is growling and it’s gonna be breakfast time at this rate, and what I’m saying is I need a snack or imma truly lose my shit while tryna unpack.”
Relationships: Brooke Lynn Hytes/Vanessa Vanjie Mateo
Comments: 20
Kudos: 55





	before the sunrise

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this little drabble as a break from ANOTHER drabble (which is way longer than a drabble now) that I had originally started to take a break from my WIPs. 
> 
> I've been feeling like I'm stuck in a rut lately and Writ is the best for prompting this to me and cheering me on to get me out of it. I appreciate them the MOST. And they beta-ed this too, who could ask for more? 
> 
> Enjoy! Thank you for all the sweet lovely feedback on my current fics. It makes me happier than you know.

Night shifts aren’t that bad, really.

The convenience store is empty most of the time. Quiet. The rows lined with snacks and packaged food sit untouched, acting as Brooke’s only companions between the hours of 11 p.m. and 7 a.m. in the morning.

Brooke had taken the job because ballet expenses and the rent of her shitty downtown apartment don’t pay for themselves. Four months in with night shifts, it’s not too unmanageable. She has a pepper spray bottle in the pocket of her jeans and a heightened sense of awareness towards the windows and doors, watching those who pass by for any sense of possible danger.

But it’s calm. She spends most of her nights manning the register, holding back yawns. Listening to a podcast over the overhead speakers because there’s no one else there to complain that the store isn’t playing the latest top 40 hits. 

Most of the time, she’s just bored. 

She has her occasional regulars, people to talk to when the dead of night becomes a little too quiet. The mom of a newborn who lives across the street and comes in around 2 a.m. with her baby in tow, trying to get him back to sleep as she rocks him while she walks. The McDonald’s employee who comes by during his break to grab a pack of cigarettes every couple of days. The businessman who leaves work late enough that he never interacts with his family during the day, preferring to grab a packet of beef jerky for a makeshift dinner. The store also gets its fair share of those who’ve drank a little too much at the bar a few doors down, gotten themselves worked up. Though she’s able to redirect them, send them on her way after filling their hands with snacks.

No one has really stood out to Brooke, made her look twice just yet as she checks them out at the register. That is, until 4 a.m. on a Tuesday night when it’s raining a little too hard outside the dingy windows.

“A place actually open? Fucking _finally!”_

Brooke’s not sure whether the statement is uttered by a customer or a drowned rat, by the sight of the woman who’s just walked in the front door. Her hair is soaking wet and heavy on her shoulders, her makeup smudging by her eyes and making her look like she has raccoon-esque dark circles.

Brooke watches in amusement as the woman strolls up the counter, slamming both of her hands onto the table and rocking back and forth on her heels.

“Can I help you with something?” Brooke doesn’t put on much of a customer service voice for the woman, distracted by the way she seems to be shaking the drops of water from her hair onto the counter. 

“I moved here about-” The woman pauses, checking her watch, ‘-eighteen hours ago. Forgot about dinner, no big. But my stomach is growling and it’s gonna be breakfast time at this rate, and what I’m saying is I need a snack or imma truly lose my shit while tryna unpack.”

“Why are you up so late?” Brooke takes a proper look at the woman, sees her baggy shirt and shorts and rain soaked skin and the way she’s slightly shivering. 

“Too much energy. Couldn’t fall asleep ‘cause I started unpacking a little. And now I’m hungry.” The woman shrugs, taking a step back to look at the shelves. “You got anything good?”

“We have some microwaveable meals, if you want-”

“Nah.” The woman waves a hand. “My microwave ain’t unpacked yet. That’s a project for tomorrow. How ‘bout snacks?”

Brooke comes around the side of the counter because fuck it, it’s 4 a.m. and it’s highly unlikely that any other customers will be coming by anytime soon. The woman’s lips part slightly, looking up at Brooke once she’s beside her, and Brooke realizes just how short the woman is.

It’s adorable.

Nonetheless, Brooke points to the aisle beside them. “Got some trail mixes and chips over here, if that’s what you’re into. Some jerky, over there. Some dry cereal in that aisle, over there?” 

The woman’s eyes light up at seeing the cereal on the top shelf. “Fuck, I haven’t had Fruit Loops in ages. That’s my dinner.”

Brooke wrinkles her nose. “Fruit Loops for dinner?”

The woman shrugs. “Hey, it’s got fruit. That’s healthy, right?”

“Well-”

“Dang, I can’t reach.” The woman huffs after she tries to jump, get her hand to graze the top shelf, the Fruit Loops just out of her grasp. Brooke tries to hold back a laugh at the way her brow furrows. 

“Can you…?” The woman looks at Brooke sheepishly, pointing at the box. 

Brooke grabs the box without having to reach too far. “I got you.” 

“A giraffe. Thank you.” The woman grabs the box with a grin that lights up her entire face, and Brooke can’t stop herself from returning it.

“I think we have some milk in the refrigerated section too, if you wanted-”

“Nah.” The woman scoffs. “Fruit Loops are best right out of the box, baby.”

It’s after the woman leaves with a wave, when Brooke’s brain is replaying the way she said ‘baby’ over and over and over in her head, when she realizes that she’d forgotten to ask the woman her name.

* * *

Brooke doesn’t see the woman for another week, her night shifts a boring haze that seem to blur together. She’s tired, real tired, from the exertion she’s putting her body through during the day with dancing, her muscles tugging and straining as she rolls out her shoulders and puts away inventory. She has to hold back a yawn as she opens yet another box, wanting nothing more than to head home and have a proper night of sleep. 

She knows this job isn’t sustainable in the long term, that she has to find something else. But it’s convenient, and the night shifts pay a little bit more by the hour than the day shifts do, and her apartment isn’t rent controlled and there’s no way she’s moving back home anytime soon.

So, night shifts for now it is. 

The clock hits 2 a.m. as Brooke fiddles with her phone, too out of it to sort through the register or clean a little or even pretend to look like she’s doing work. She’s watching the recording of the run through of the latest show that her company’s going to put on, going over the steps from one of the acts in her head, as if the mental exercise will help solidify it once she has to go to practice in the morning.

Hey, it’s worth a shot.

She nearly drops her phone when the door to the store slams open, hitting against the wall, and her heart’s about to jump out of her chest before she realizes that it isn’t someone trying to rob the store, or anyone intimidating. No one that she’s need to pull out her pepper spray for.

No, it’s the woman from last week. Looking a lot less damp and still as adorable in a t shirt dress that could very well be her pyjamas. 

“It’s you!” The woman perks up when she sees her at the register, waltzing over to lean against the counter like she did last time. “Haven’t seen you here the last couple days.”

“Have you been coming in the daytime?”

The woman nods, and Brooke shrugs. “I only work nights.” 

“Ooh, a woman of the night.” The woman winks and Brooke has to hold back a snort.

“I’m not sure that means what you think it means.”

The woman remains unfazed, still grinning at Brooke. “I like my definition better, if I’m being honest.”

“I’m sure you do.” Brooke leans against the counter too, a smidge closer to the woman, notices the way the woman’s eyes widen a bit. “So, what brings you back?”

“Out of Fruit Loops. Also ‘cause I didn’t see you during the day and was wondering whether I had made up a six foot tall glamazon cashier all in my head.”

“Real, and here in the flesh. As I am most nights.” The store seems more like a bedroom to her than her actual bedroom does, considering how much time she’s been spending here.

“Good to know. Guess I’ll have to come visit more often, then.” The woman winks at her and Brooke’s not sure, really, if she’s flirting with her, because who else would voluntarily come to a seedy convenience store in the middle of the night?

So, Brooke’s gonna lean into it. Even if she’s not 100% sure on the woman’s signals. “I’ll look forward to it, that’s for sure.”

“Good…” The woman looks down, trying to search for something, and... is she looking at Brooke’s boobs? Brooke’s about to comment before-

“You ain’t got a name tag or something?”

“Oh.” Brooke feels herself turning red, any moments of suaveness dissipated. “Brooke. And nah, they don’t bother, considering the employee turnover rate.” 

The woman looks unfazed. “Cute. I like it.” 

She starts picking up the snacks she’s dropped on the counter, and Brooke frowns. “You’re not gonna tell me yours?” 

“Vanjie. But _you_ can call me Vanessa.” The woman, Vanessa, flips her hair over her shoulder, and Brooke has to hold back a grin, because now she can tell, she really can, that the woman’s giving her signals. 

She likes it.

* * *

Vanessa comes back every couple of days after that, buying snacks, sticking around to talk more often than not.

Brooke learns that Vanessa’s moved from Tampa, a makeup artist in town for a few months while she’s working on a project that’s filming in the city. She hates the cold and rainy weather so far, but doesn’t mind the humidity. She’s brought her dog with her while in town, and pulls her phone out excitedly to show Brooke pictures of him. 

“If you think I’m not going to have a meltdown over how cute he is, you’re absolutely wrong.” Brooke can’t help the way she scrunches up her hands, the way her face pouts a little, because Riley is indeed adorable. “You should bring him by sometime.” 

“Maybe I will, tomorrow, if he’s not snoring away.” Vanessa tucks her phone into her pocket, dipping her hand into the bag of chips that she’s just bought, before holding it out to Brooke. “What about you, got any pets?”

Brooke grabs a handful before answering. “Kitties. Two of them.” 

Brooke pulls out her own phone to show Vanessa, whose voice becomes adorably high pitched as she flips through Brooke’s camera roll, cooing at the pictures of them all cuddled up to her.

“This is the cutest shit I’ve ever seen, are you kidding?” Vanessa gasps when she sees a picture of Brooke holding both cats up in her lap. “Stop. This is the best thing ever.”

A throat clear behind them makes both of them jump, turn around, to see a slightly dishevelled man holding a package of toilet paper in one hand and Pepto Bismol in the other. “Hi, uh, can I check out?”

Brooke chances a glance over at Vanessa and has to avert her eyes immediately to keep herself from cracking up right then and there. She takes a deep breath before looking up to face the man again, and can see how positively green he looks. “I can help you at the register, sir.”

Brooke manages to keep it together until the man lets the door close behind him and he’s out of earshot. She peeks over at Vanessa, who bursts out laughing.

“That much Pepto? Shit, he probably going through it tonight!” Vanessa’s bent over in half, cackling, and Brooke can’t help but join her. 

“Oh god. I bet it’s coming out of both ends.”

“Nasty. A shitty problem to have, wouldn’t you say?” Vanessa looks over at her, eyes twinkling at her, and Brooke snickers.

“And _that_ was a shitty pun.” 

“You liked it.” Vanessa nudges her, hops up onto the counter, and the motion fills Brooke with a sense of ease, an untangling in her chest, from the way Vanessa does it so casually. Like they’re friends now, like their regular hangouts at the store are for more than Vanessa just buying some snacks. 

She hopes Vanessa doesn’t have to move back any time soon.

* * *

It’s 5:30 a.m. on a Sunday night and Brooke’s tired. It’s quiet, more so than it usually is, and Brooke can’t help the way she lifts her eyes up every so often, peeking at the door, looking for a certain someone. 

Vanessa hasn’t come by the store in days. Brooke had gotten used to her, had enjoyed passing the time by cracking jokes and fooling around and learning more and more about her. Telling Vanessa in turn about her ballet training, how badly she wants to make principal dancer eventually. 

Vanessa had listened, asked questions. Let her ramble about her financial stress and ballet stress and work stress and it’s nice, really, because Vanessa understood it too.

So Brooke misses her. 

She knows that Vanessa’s had a busy week at work, that the television show she’s working on has had longer hours than usual. Still, she can’t help the way she peeks at the door, waiting.

The watch on her wrist creeps past 6:30 a.m. and Brooke only has half an hour of her shift left to go and she’s thankful, because she needs a nap before practice today. She’s about to drop her head onto the counter for some quick shut eye when the door slams open, in a way that only Vanessa can do. 

“Brought you coffee.” Vanessa holds up a cup and grins, handing it over, and the first sip of caffeine is practically heavenly. 

“You absolute godsend.” Brooke takes a second sip, then a third, before putting the cup down. 

Vanessa puts out a hand in front of her from grabbing the cup again. “Slow down, you. Don’t wanna burn your tongue.”

“I want caffeine, though.” 

“True, who needs taste buds, anyway?” Vanessa reaches over, grabbing her hand, tugging her around the side of the counter like she usually does. “Help me pick out a morning snack.”

Brooke grabs another box of Fruit Loops from the top shelf because Vanessa’s gotten her into them, too. Vanessa’s squeal of delight makes the extra sugar worth it.

Vanessa cracks the box open on the counter after she pays, shoving her hand in to grab a handful. She holds the box out towards Brooke, who grabs some too.

The tail ends of Brooke’s shifts always bring in a hint of sunlight, rays that catch in the glass of the windows as they start to rise. Dawn is Brooke’s favourite part of her shift. When the darkness starts to leave, when the rows upon rows of snacks aren’t illuminated just by fluorescents anymore.

Vanessa in the light of day has a gentle glow to her, the sunlight hitting her skin in shades of gold. She’s beautiful, even as she munches down Fruit Loops like her life depends on it. 

Brooke’s about to ask her what her day holds when Vanessa reaches into her pocket, pulling out a folded piece of paper. An old receipt? Brooke can feel her brow furrowing as Vanessa holds it out to her.

“Think there was something on one of my old receipts earlier. Can you look at it?” Vanessa’s eyes are sparkling and Brooke doesn’t understand why as she unfolds it, before...oh.

A phone number. 

Vanessa’s phone number.

“You mighty cute in the nighttime. Care to hang out with me in the light of day?” Vanessa reaches out, interlaces their fingers, like she already knows what the answer will be. 

“Know any good breakfast spots?”

**Author's Note:**

> find me at @plastiquetiaras on tumblr!


End file.
